Sunday, August 16, 2015

Let's Make a Deal (Umm, an Eeyore Post-Gloomy)

"Hallo, Pooh. Thank you for asking, but I shall be able to use it again in a day or two."

"Use what?" said Pooh.

"What we were talking about."

"I wasn't talking about anything," said Pooh, looking puzzled.

"My mistake again. I thought you were saying how sorry you were about my tail, being all numb, and could you do anything to help?"

"No," said Pooh. "That wasn't me," he said. He thought for a little and then suggested helpfully: "Perhaps it was somebody else."

"Well, thank him for me when you see him."

I just love Eeyore. His little quips always make me smile and resonate with me somehow.

Sometimes I don't think I've really dealt with my sister's death. But then I ask myself, "What does dealing with death look like?" I don't know.

We were all thrown head long into the unknown territory of Mom's care and finances and it has taken up all the space in the room that is my mind.
I think the fact that I am not sleeping indicates the whole "not dealing," thing.
She's not here for me to say I am so sorry for how things went. I know that I didn't have anything to do with it. But still.
I read a lot of books about the brain. I think somewhere, some how, some one has had to come up with a way for me to help a struggling child. I have found a lot of great answers, but not so many that I don't keep searching.
Research says the part of the brain that stores negative images is like Velcro and, as you might guess, the part laying up those feel good moments is like Teflon. No kidding. It does say some work can at least bring a balance.
Well, that's a challenge when there is hardly a good memory to be mined from those last days with her.
She's on my mind tonight, so perhaps I'm here- dealing.
The last morning I was with her she woke tearing off the oxygen monitor and the oxygen. I thought it was because the medicine running low was causing some erratic behavior. Now, I think it was Glenda trying one more thing to get someone's attention. Over and over someone would come in and she would say, "I can't breathe." The medical person would say, "Your oxygen stats are good, 98." She was parting ways with that monitor, and the oxygen in hopes they would see what kind of shape she was in.
She told me on Friday, "I'll be dead by Monday." She missed it by 7 hours. She said, "I've seen people die with oxygen stats in the 90's." And now girl, so have I. When after so very much misery, we discovered the culprit, she said, "They've killed me for no good reason."
I don't think to be affectionate, well, except to wee folk. I'm a word person. I wonder how much I hugged her? I can tell you, not enough.
Just before things started the roll downwards, I was there for a long time on a Saturday. Ol' Mother Hubbard was there too and told her how beautiful she looked that day and it made her smile big.

I'm sorry. I'm sorry no one would listen. I've never seen anyone go downhill so fast in my life.
I thought we'd grow old together.

On Thursday, her daughter's husband will be undergoing a difficult surgery for someone already compromised healthwise. I know her girl will so be missing her mama's prayers and support. Maybe you will be praying for Laurie and Anthony this week in her stead.

Now this boy's joy at so very many things certainly lifts my spirits.

Speaking of quips, Giddy-Up spied marshmallows in the pantry and asked to have some. His mom said, "Let me put some in a cup." He said, "Let me just eat the bag wholefull."

Then, whilst we were madly knocking cells out of the wee bee's hive I made a comment about my kids.
Giddy-Up declared, "Gramerly, you don't have any kids!"
I replied with a bit of a tone, "Umm, how do you think you got here?"
Giddy-Up- "I drove a car!"
Crack up!

Our little Wild Man, into EVERY LAST THING. This picture was made to create a diversion, after gently prying my camera from his wee hands.
Ahh, life. Sift the joy, sift the joy, sift the joy.